


Cold

by sleepymccoy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bones is a worrier, Cold!Spock, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymccoy/pseuds/sleepymccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones is an angry southern man who hates it when alien planets make Spock cold. Relatively new relationship and Bones maybe over does the concern</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

 

“Scotty,” McCoy's voice crackled into the transporter room, “Immediate beam out for Mr. Spock and myself.”

 

Scotty moved quickly and locked on, pulling them up to the Enterprise straight away.

 

They appeared wrapped up in blankets. As soon as they arrived McCoy threw his blanket off, walking over to Spock and wrapping it around his shoulders instead. Spock hadn't moved, just standing still, holding his blanket tightly. 

 

“Doctor, this was unnecessary,” Spock muttered as McCoy felt his forehead.

 

“Nonsense it was unnecessary, you stopped shivering, you're way too damn cold. These blankets are about as useful as a trap door in a canoe. Come on, med bay, now,” McCoy said and led him gently down the steps. “Scotty, let Jim know his First Officer is out of service until I can get his body temperature back up. And that he may have a few apologies to make on my behalf, I was soppin’ mad.”

 

“I'll pass it along, Doctor,” Scotty said.

 

“I would prefer to warm up in my quarters,” Spock said quietly.

 

“Like hell,” McCoy snapped, “I'm thawing you out in a controlled environment.” He led Spock out the door, carefully holding his arms. Spock went without complaint, too cold to put up a fight.

 

Spock spent twenty minutes in a tub of water with a steadily rising temperature. Once done McCoy pulled out some thermals for him to wear for the rest of his shift with instructions to not go down to the planet until he'd come up with a sufficient solution for the cold.

 

That Spock agreed without a fight shook McCoy, he must realise how dangerous the cold had been.

 

\----------

  
  


The next day the people in the transporter room were privy to an amusing scene as McCoy pulled item of clothing after item of clothing out of a bag for Spock to wear. The rest of the away team had been given thermals, some wearing a beanie, but McCoy had gone all out with Spock's preparation.

 

He first stuck a few temperature gauges to his body with a remote monitor McCoy held to check his core temperature as the day went on. Then it was a few strips of heating coils hastily stuffed in fabric which were wrapped around his ankles, thighs, waist, wrists and neck. McCoy held the ability to turn these on when he felt Spock was getting too cold. Then thermals, extra socks, uniform, scarf, beanie and gloves. 

 

Spock tried to refuse the gloves but McCoy was absolute in his conviction. 

 

“This might be overkill, Bones,” Jim said when Spock was trussed up.

 

“We can handle the cold fine, Jim,” McCoy said angrily, fixing Spock's sleeves over his gloves. “But Spock needs a warmer temperature anyway, and they keep sending him outside to look at whatever the hell is out there.”

 

“They have been showing me some interesting natural growing patterns among their plant life, it is most uncommonly ordered,” Spock said.

 

McCoy pulled Spock's sleeve harshly, tugging Spock's body down with it for a moment. “It's not worth your ears and fingers, Spock,” he snapped.

 

“I believe I am sufficiently equipped now, Doctor,” Spock said with a small smile. McCoy huffed his displeasure.

 

“D'you really need him, Jim?” McCoy asked, trying one last time.

 

“They like him, Bones, better than they like any of us,” Jim said softly. 

 

McCoy grumbled about inconsiderate aliens before grabbing his jacket and following Spock onto the transporter pad. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


McCoy was nervously checking Spock's temperature every five minutes. Spock was avoiding him, clearly annoyed by the attention, but McCoy kept at his job. 

 

Spock's temperature suddenly dropped a whole degree and McCoy glanced up at him. Spock was fiddling with his gloves. Presumably the cool air seeping in was making him cold. McCoy shook his head in annoyance, making a note to tell Spock off next time he checked in.

 

Ten minutes later Spock's temperature had dropped another degree and McCoy turned the heating coils on. McCoy watched Spock as he excused himself from his company and walked quickly over to McCoy. 

 

“That was premature, Doctor, I am not yet uncomfortably cold,” Spock said, stopping across the tall, thin table from McCoy.

 

McCoy stood up to face Spock. “I don't want your temperature fluctuating wildly through the day, Spock,” he said, “That'll exhaust you.”

 

Spock sighed, but did not bother fighting him.

 

“You're losing heat very quickly, despite the thermals, do I need to get you more gear?” McCoy asked.

 

“No,” Spock said, “Vulcans do not retain heat well, it is to be expected.”

 

McCoy hummed in consideration. “Well, I might dial up your meal card, you're too damn thin.”

 

“I am within ideal guidelines for a Vulcan my age, Doctor,” Spock said quickly.

 

“You'd have to stand up twice to cast a shadow, Spock!”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned to leave, not dignifying that comment with a reply.

 

“And would you quit messing with your damn gloves!” McCoy called after the quickly retreating figure.

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Doctor.”

 

McCoy spun around, surprised to see Spock behind him.

 

“Decided to stop avoiding me, Spock?” he asked.

 

“Doctor, these gloves are growing increasingly uncomfortable,” Spock said quietly, bending over to keep his comment secret.

 

McCoy frowned. “Spock, I know your hands are sensitive and all, but you'll just have to suffer through.”

 

Spock sighed. “May I show you?” he asked.

 

McCoy stood up, nodding, and drew close to Spock. Spock quickly pulled his glove off his right hand and held it out for McCoy to inspect.

 

Spock's wrist was flushed a dark green with indents from the wristband of the glove. McCoy felt the grooves and was mildly put out by how deeply the fabric had constricted him. His fingers followed the marks of the seams up Spock's hand. The lines were dark green where Spock's blood had pooled, but a stark white otherwise. McCoy ran his fingers across the back of Spock's hand, able to feel a residue of the fabric imprinted on him. 

 

Spock's knuckles were green too, almost bruised, and his fingers were shockingly white in comparison. And cold. “Damn,” McCoy muttered, “They've cut off blood flow to your fingers.” He pulled Spock's left hand up and tugged his glove off, disappointed but unsurprised to see the same marks and colouring covering that hand. He held one of Spock's hands in each of his and started trying to rub life back into his fingers.

 

“Let's go somewhere a bit warmer, come on,” McCoy led Spock off towards the edge of the room. The walls were covered in long hanging rugs, so McCoy dragged Spock between two of them, in the hopes that the insulation and his body heat would keep the air warm enough for a time. He was a fool, a complete fool to give Spock gloves too small for him. He'd done more damage than good here. And now Spock was having to suffer for his prize idiocy.

 

“Leonard, this is not your fault,” Spock muttered.

 

“Was I talking out loud?” McCoy asked, massaging Spock's fingers each in turn. He gripped Spock's knuckle then trailed up, pressing hard, trying to encourage blood flow.

 

“No, but you were thinking with great clarity,” Spock said apologetically, he knew McCoy didn't much like having his thoughts read. McCoy, however, was likely to forgive Spock anything right now.

 

McCoy nodded. “Rookie mistake,” he muttered, “I should've taken measurements. It was a rush job and I didn't follow god damned procedure.” McCoy sighed. He drew Spock's hands together and held them tight. “M’sorry, Spock. I'm very sorry.”

 

“Leonard, do no-”

 

“Tuck them under your arms for a moment,” McCoy interrupted. Spock swallowed his words and obeyed. McCoy pulled his communicator out and instructed Scotty to get into his quarters and pick up a pair of gloves from his cupboard. 

 

Once he'd finished describing the minutae of the contents of his sock draw to Scotty, McCoy hung up.

 

“Let me check again,” McCoy said, grabbing Spock's hands back. He poked Spock's hand a few times, studying how long it took the blood to well back. He was happy with them, they'd warmed up well. 

 

He spent the next few minutes keeping Spock's fingers warm, alternating between holding his hands in his own, and rubbing each finger individually.

 

Spock seemed to relax into him, now that a solution had been found. After a comfortable minute he gasped and said, “Leonard, if you are attempting to use this situation to encourage a sexua-”

 

“Spock,” McCoy interrupted, “You know I like flirting with you in public, but right now I’m having an awful time. I'm stressing about you, I feel guilty as hell, and it's not lending itself to a cheerful frame of mind. I'm not trying to rev you up, and I'm very sorry if I'm having that effect.”

 

Spock nodded. “I apologise for implying a lack of professional concern, Doctor,” he said.

 

“My concern isn't entirely professional, Spock. I'm worried about you,” McCoy said stiffly. “I want to do right by you and I'm not, apparently.”

 

The gloves McCoy had requested suddenly shimmered into being at their feet. McCoy bent down to pick them up. When he stood up again he avoided Spock's eye contact, pulling his gloves on.

 

“Now, these aren't the best, but they've kept me warm through many winters back home, and it can get nippy there. The leather’s fake, but the wool inside is real, I'm afraid, Spock. I hope that's not too morally off for you?”

 

“I shall manage,” Spock said lightly.

 

“I shore her myself,” McCoy continued, pulling the other glove onto Spock. “Cass had a good life, I promise you.” He finished strapping the gloves down and stepped back. He shook his head. “They look right out of place on you, Spock, I'm sorry. I'll get you something neater tonight.”

 

Spock smiled softly at McCoy. “Thank you, Doctor, these are sufficient,” he said quietly. “They are vastly more comfortable.”

 

McCoy nodded. He checked Spock's temperature readout, he was fine so McCoy waved him off. Spock hesitated before leaving. He whispered one last gratitude and left McCoy to his self inflicted guilt.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


McCoy sat waiting for Spock to finish his shower. They'd gone straight to Spock's quarters when they returned and McCoy had insisted Spock have a hot, water shower to ensure he was warmed up. 

 

McCoy was deep into his work when Spock walked out, wearing a casual green tunic over some remarkably form fitting thermal pants. McCoy didn't let himself take in the steaming (metaphorically and physically, Spock must have obeyed the instructions for a hot shower) vision for more than a few seconds, returning to his Padd.

 

“What are you doing, Doctor?” Spock asked as he sat down next to him on the couch. Spock hadn't brought his Padd over, instead he was sitting on his left leg, the other hanging off the couch so that he could face McCoy, giving him his entire focus.

 

“Resizing those gloves of yours.”

 

“I am content with the gloves you loaned me,” Spock said softly. He watched McCoy for another moment. “I would prefer it if you took the night off.”

 

McCoy couldn't very well say no to Spock right now. He felt far too guilty for screwing up today at Spock's expense. He closed his Padd and looked at Spock properly. He was wearing eyeliner.

 

“I didn't think you'd much like them, Spock. Animal parts and all,” McCoy said, electing to not comment on the makeup. Spock didn't usually reapply after his shift.

 

Spock smiled imperceptibly. “I am correct in that shearing a sheep does it no harm?”

 

McCoy nodded. “That's right.”

 

“Well, Leonard,” Spock said clearly, placing a hand on McCoy's knee. McCoy focused on that. “Given that the creature was under your care, I don't doubt she lived a better life than many humans on your planet. I feel no guilt wearing her discards.”

 

McCoy felt his cheek growing warm and thought a brief, angry epithet for his propensity to blush. Spock was very clearly not resentful over the glove mishap. “Well, that's quite the vote of confidence there, Mr. Spock,” McCoy said quietly after far too long had passed.

 

Spock sat back, leaning against the arm of the couch. “I have faith in your intentions and character,” he said mildly, as if he wasn't making McCoy slowly swoon.

 

“Even when I miss the mark with my results?”

 

“It is then that I see the honour of your intention even more.” Spock watched him closely, McCoy could feel the strength of his gaze, taking in McCoy's blush, his bright eyes, his twisted hands. Spock pushed himself a foot closer to him, his right leg landing between McCoy's. “Leonard, please disregard your guilt, it is misplaced.”

 

McCoy sighed and leaned in to Spock's body, feeling the heat from him. “Alright,” he said, “Alright. I'm a fool.” He heard Spock breath in sharply, preparing a rebuttal. “But instead of wallowing in my misery, I'll try and learn and move on. Happy?”

 

Spock raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “I am simply ecstatic.”

 

McCoy laughed. “Yeah, I'll just bet you are.” 

 

Spock pulled him in for a kiss. 

 

“You've gotten better at this comforting emotional humans thing,” McCoy muttered against Spock's lips.

 

“I have had a great deal of practice with you,” Spock said before moving to kiss McCoy softly on his neck, moving steadily down the line of his throat.

 

McCoy smiled at the soft insult. A soft, citrus smell wafted past him and he sniffed. “What's that smell?”

 

Spock paused for a moment then leant back. “I lit some incense earlier.”

 

“You lit some incense.”

 

“Yes.”

 

McCoy ran his thumb across Spock's eyebrow, studying him curiously. He thought about their evening, considering it from the point of view of someone who wasn't miserable and focusing on a mistake they'd made earlier. The eyeliner Spock was wearing made more sense now. 

 

“Mr. Spock, I do believe you're trying to seduce me,” McCoy said softly.

 

“Me, sir?” Spock asked innocently before swinging his leg over McCoy, straddling him. “It is not in my nature,” he said, a smile visibly creeping onto his face.

  
McCoy rolled his eyes and pulled Spock in for a kiss.


End file.
